Archive for the ‘Mini Moke’ tag

The British military’s loss was the motoring public’s gain. While Alec Issigonis, the designer of the Mini, thought that the British Motor Corporation might be able to take some business away from Land Rover by building a rugged, Mini-based, air-droppable utility vehicle for the British army, the army thought not. So instead, BMC decided to offer it to the public, and the resulting Mini Moke will now celebrate its 50th anniversary this year.

Only the Royal Navy showed any interest in Issigonis’s military vehicle, thinking that the vehicle might be good for zipping about aircraft carrier decks. The army deferred because the same small, 10-inch wheels that helped the Mini maximize its interior space limited his runabout’s ground clearance. Still seeking a military buyer, Issigonis added to the vehicle’s cross-country capabilities by creating the twin-engine Moke 4 x 4. He proved that it was capable of blasting through snow drifts at 40 MPH, but, from the military’s point of view, the added fuel and maintenance costs of the two 848cc four-cylinder engines were too much to overcome.

In 1964, BMC changed its approach, offering the Mini Moke, as it was now called, to the public. Sold under both the Austin and Morris badges, it featured the same 848cc A-series OHV inline-four and integrated four-speed transaxle as the Mini, and the same suspension, too. In the beginning, the Moke was offered in just one color, Spruce Green, and buyers had to dig deeper than the £405 purchase price for such extras as passenger seats, a heater and a windshield washer. (By the way, it’s a common misconception that the Moke was offered as a kit car; only completed vehicles were sold throughout the model’s life.) The first production Mini Moke was manufactured in January 1964 at BMC’s Longbridge factory in Birmingham, England.

Photo by Mark Staff, courtesy RM Auctions.

American sales brochures for the Moke provided a definition for the name: “Own a four-passenger donkey! The Austin Mini-Moke is as tough and versatile as its namesake, but not half so obstinate. The rugged transverse-mounted BMC engine, combined with front wheel drive, makes it sure-footed on the roughest terrain. Caring a load, caddying around the golf course or coursing over back roads and beaches, the Austin Mini Moke is the real ‘can do’ vehicle. A lot more economical than a donkey, too!”

BMC had thought that the Moke might appeal to farmers, tradesmen and the like as a utility vehicle. Instead, it became a cult car, thanks in part to its prominent role in the popular British TV series The Prisoner (below). With its carefree appeal (and nearly non-existent weather protection), it was soon a common sight in sun-kissed resorts like Barbados and Macau.

The Moke could transport four people at up to 74 MPH, if they were sufficiently brave, and could be saddled with a maximum load of 706 pounds. With just 37.5 horsepower on tap, acceleration was modest; BMC reported a 0-50 time of 18.6 seconds, and a quarter-mile time of 23.6 seconds.

Like the car’s admirers, the Moke’s production history had a vagabond, sand-in-your-shoes quality. Production continued at Longbridge until the fall of 1968, and then transferred to Sydney, Australia, where Mokes had been built since 1966. From the fall of 1968, Australian Mokes were given 13-inch wheels, making them more practical for the beach and limited off-road use. In 1977, the 1,275cc Moke Californian was launched, spiffed up with denim seat covers, spoked wheels and tubular bumpers known as “roo bars.”

Australian production ended in 1982, and started up again the next year in Portugal, continuing until 1989; buyers could dress up their Mokes with Minilite wheels, metallic paint and tinted windshields. The fourth and final chapter began in 1990, when the rights were sold to the Italian company Cagiva, which produced the Moke in Portugal until 1993. These Mokes, like their contemporary Minis, had 12-inch wheels.

Photo courtesy BMW Group.

In all, nearly 50,000 Mokes and Moke derivitives were made. Much like the Meyers Manx dune buggy, the car’s simplicity and popularity gave rise to a number of copycats over the years. Beyond a couple of concept cars, parent company BMW has shown no interest in dusting off the Moke nameplate – and it’s hard to imagine regulators in Europe or North America to ever allow this kind of car to be sold again.

Yet the name and the idea still live on. Australia’s Moke International has announced that an updated version of the Moke (shown below on a beach in St. Barth in the French West Indies) has been put into production by Chery in China, using that automaker’s running gear. As of this month, the “Classic” Moke is being offered for sale in the Caribbean, and the company also lists dealers in Australia, New Zealand, Thailand, Seychelles and Mauritius – though it’s unclear when, or if, cars will be sold there.

Fans of the original Moke will gather to celebrate the car’s 50th birthday at the International Mini Meeting 2014, scheduled for July 31 – August 3 at the Kent Event Centre in Maidstone, Kent, UK; the club website has all the details.

The American automotive landscape is littered with the bones of failed automakers, including those that once enjoyed great success before following the dodo into extinction. Brands like Pontiac, Hudson, Kaiser and DeSoto are familiar names, but others, such as Sebring Vanguard and Thrif-T are lesser-known; now, thanks to a recently-opened exhibit at the America on Wheels Transportation Museum in Allentown, Pennsylvania, these (and other) orphan cars are once again in the spotlight.

“Gone But Not Forgotten: Orphan Cars of the 1950s to Today” honors automakers which, in the words of museum representative Jason Stershic, “often represent the combination of big dreams but small budgets, mismanagement of once-great companies or flawed designs.”

1954 Kaiser Darrin 161. Photo by David LaChance.

Some cars cross boundary lines, doomed to failure by both shrinking budgets and poor management. One such example is the 1954 Kaiser Darrin 161, a fiberglass convertible sports car powered by an inline six-cylinder engine that made its public debut before the Chevrolet Corvette, but hit dealerships after the launch of the less-expensive Corvette. Named for its designer, Howard “Dutch” Darrin, the two-seater boasted a nylon top that could be positioned in an up, down, or landau (partially open) configuration, and doors that slid into the front fenders instead of opening outward.

Built on Dutch Darrin’s own time and with his own money, the Kaiser Darrin was initially rejected by company head Henry J. Kaiser, who was infuriated that Darrin would waste his efforts on such a frivolous project. When Kaiser’s new wife expressed her affinity for the stylish roadster (reportedly calling it, “the most beautiful thing I have ever seen”), Kaiser’s position on the car changed, and the Darrin was given the go-ahead for production. Timing can be all-important, and in the case of the Kaiser Darrin, timing was not on the car’s side. Kaiser’s merger with Willys-Overland delayed production and strained the company’s finances, and by the time the Darrin hit dealerships it was seen as too big a gamble by a skeptical public. Production lasted a single year, and only 435 examples were built.

1951 Thrif-T Tri-Wheel. Photo by Mike McNessor.

Another orphan car to be featured in the exhibit is a 1951 Thrif-T Tri-Wheel, built by the Tri-Wheel Motor Corporation of Springfield, Massachusetts. Designed by C.D. Gill in Oxford, North Carolina, the three-wheeler was promoted as an economical choice for drug store delivery, grocery delivery or even suburban homeowners looking for a second family vehicle. With a bench seat that promised accommodations for three (and delivered, realistically, seating for two) and a faux convertible top, the Thrif-T Tri-Wheel was indeed a stylish and semi-practical mode of transportation that would have been ideally suited to postwar Europe. Its 10-horsepower Onan engine and perceived instability made it a tough sell on these shores, however, and the Tri-Wheel Motor Corporation’s eight-year production run ended in 1955. It’s not clear how many were built, but the bright yellow example on loan to the America on Wheels museum (featured in the October 2007 issue of Hemmings Motor News) is believed to be the only restored and functional example in existence.

Safety concerns also spelled the end of another orphan car, designed to offer 1970s commuters an electric alternative to internal combustion vehicles. Created by Robert G. Beaumont, the Sebring Vanguard CitiCar utilized an aluminum frame covered in riveted Cycolac plastic panels, with propulsion coming courtesy of a lead-acid battery array and a direct current electric motor that produced anywhere from two-and-a-half to six horsepower, depending upon model. The CitiCar SV-48, arguably the firm’s most popular model, used eight six-volt batteries and a three-and-a-half horsepower electric motor to deliver a claimed top speed of 38 MPH and a range of approximately 40 miles. At the car’s 1974 launch, sales were brisk, but a 1975 article in Consumer Reports changed that after calling the CitiCar, “foolhardy to drive.” As Beaumont later recalled, “They called our car everything but a suicide car. Unsafe this, that and the other, because they were comparing our 1,100-pound car to the big cars. That article basically pulled the plug on us…”

A 1976 Sebring Vanguard CitiCar. Photo by Mike McNessor.

Though Sebring Vanguard didn’t enjoy success as an automaker, the firm’s assets were sold in 1977 to a new company called Commuter Vehicles, Inc., which produced its Commuta-Car variant from 1978 to 1982. Approximately 2,500 CitiCars were built and sold, followed by roughly 4,000 Commuta-Cars, making this wedge-shaped oddity the most successful modern electric car until the Tesla Roadster.

Other cars in the Gone But Not Forgotten exhibit include a 1981 DeLorean DMC-12; a 2009 Pontiac Solstice GXP Coupe; a 1969 Plymouth GTX Convertible; a 1973 Mercury Cougar Convertible; a 1967 Amphicar; a 1964 Austin Mini Moke; a 1963 Studebaker Avanti R-2; a 1959 Vespa 400 Semi-Convertible; a 1959 Nash Metropolitan; a 1959 Edsel Villager Station Wagon; a 1953 De Soto Firedome Sedan; a 1957 Hudson Hollywood Hornet; a 1954 Pontiac Star Chief Convertible; and a 1964 Studebaker Gran Turismo R-2 Super Hawk. All are on loan from museum benefactors, and none are part of the museum’s permanent exhibit.

“Gone But Not Forgotten: Orphan Cars of the 1950s to Today” is scheduled to run through October. For additional information, visit AmericaOnWheels.org.

Though designer Alec Issigonis couldn’t know it at the time, the compact and fuel-efficient commuter car he was tasked to produce by British Motor Corporation (BMC) president Leonard Lord would ultimately set the stage for generations of compact cars to come. Born over fears of fuel shortages stemming from the Suez Crisis of 1956, the Austin and Morris Mini would struggle to achieve sales success at launch before becoming one of the most iconic and influential cars of the 20th century.

When Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal in July 1956, Britain feared that access to Middle Eastern oil would soon be restricted, driving fuel prices through the roof. With wartime rationing fresh in his mind, and vexed by the influx of imported microcars from brands like BMW and Messerschmitt, Lord instructed Issigonis to begin work on a miniature version of his Morris Minor, one that used “minimal materials surrounding the minimum space necessary for four people.” Interpreting that order, Issigonis gathered four cafeteria chairs, four employees and a piece of chalk, laying out the exact space needed on the shop floor. Measurements came next, and Issigonis calculated that, excluding space required for the hood or trunk, such a vehicle would require 105 inches of length, 50 inches of width and 52 inches of height.

A conventional drivetrain arrangement, with the engine in the front driving wheels in the rear, would consume an undesirable amount of interior space, so Issigonis quickly determined that his new automobile would use front-wheel drive. An existing BMC A-series engine, displacing 848 cc and producing 33 horsepower and 44 pound-feet of torque, would be positioned transversely in the engine bay, with the radiator mounted inside the left front fender. This left no additional room for the transmission, and widening the car was simply not an option; instead, Issigonis opted to mount the transmission below the engine, allowing both to share a common sump for lubrication.

Instead of conventional coil or leaf springs, the Mini’s first four-wheel independent suspension relied upon rubber and metal cones that produced a rising spring rate, used in conjunction with conventional shock absorbers. The ride was on the firm side, but control was outstanding, which helped the Mini develop a reputation for race car-like handling. Initially, Issigonis wanted to used a Hydrolastic system that he’d worked on with Dr. Alex Moulton during his time at automaker Alvis, but a tight production deadline eliminated this from consideration. The Hydrolastic suspension would ultimately make it to the Mini, but not until the 1964 model year.

Tires proved to be a challenge for the design team, as Issigonis wanted to minimize wheel well intrusion on the passenger compartment. One of the car’s design parameters was a top speed of at least 70 MPH, which meant that conventional minicar tires of the day would prove inadequate. Ultimately, Dunlop agreed to produce tires that would fit the Mini’s 10-inch wheels and accommodate its published top speed. To rein the car in from maximum velocity, Issigonis opted to use four-wheel drum brakes, although Mini Cooper and Cooper S models would later adopt front disc brakes.

John Rhodes wheels a Mini Cooper S at Brands Hatch, 1966.

In July of 1958, Issigonis delivered the initial prototype to Lord, who reportedly spent all of five minutes driving the car in a factory parking lot. When the car pulled to a stop, the designer expected that the short test drive could only mean bad news; instead, Lord directed him to have the car in production within 12 months. Though the goal seemed impossible, Issigonis and his team managed to hit the mark, and the very first retail units were delivered to British Morris dealers (as the Morris Mini Minor) and Austin dealers (as the Austin Seven, or sometimes Se7en) in August of 1959.

As innovative as the Mini was, BMC also understood that price would play a role in its commercial success (or failure). In Britain, the Mini hit dealerships priced from £496 ($935), at a time when the dated Ford Popular, built to provide low-cost transportation for families, sold for £419 ($790). Instead of focusing on the Mini’s engineering or handling, early advertising emphasized the Mini’s inexpensive price point, which failed to resonate with consumers. Buyers shopping on price tend to shy away from innovation, while those seeking advancements in engineering don’t want to be seen in a “low cost” car; put another way, BMC’s marketing emphasis on price nearly doomed the Mini at launch.

A Mini Van, at the 50th anniversary celebration in 2009.

Instead, celebrities began to adopt the Mini for its ability to dart through London traffic and fit into the smallest of parking spaces. BMC also loaned 80 examples to journalists, and the car was quickly seen at every major automotive event in Britain. Suddenly, the Mini was everywhere, driven by the likes of Peter Sellers, Princess Margaret and the Beatles, and sales began to climb. As with any new design, early Minis exhibited their share of problems, and early adopters soon became accustomed to wet carpeting (caused by a subframe assembly error), clutch failures and transmission problems, but the Mini had personality on its side. Many owners adopted a near-parental attitude towards their cars, warts and all, and embraced the car’s faults as part of its charm.

Race car constructor John Cooper understood the car’s performance potential, and managed to acquire an early production model for testing. An engine swap boosted displacement to 997 cc, raising output to 55 horsepower and 55 pound-feet of torque, while Lockheed front disc brakes shortened stopping distances, compared to the stock Mini’s four-wheel drum brakes. Those given an opportunity to drive this car raved about its capabilities, and Cooper soon reached out to Issigonis to provide the 1,000 Minis necessary for homologation purposes. Issigonis denied the request, on the grounds that the Mini was never meant to be a performance car, but Cooper would not be deterred. Taking his case to BMC’s managing director, George Harriman, Cooper convinced him that a tuned Mini had great potential in showrooms and in competition, and the Mini Cooper was born.

1969 Riley Elf, one of the “upscale” Mini models.

The Mini Cooper went on sale in 1961, and began producing victories in competition almost immediately. In 1962, John Love captured the British Saloon Car Championship behind the wheel of a Mini Cooper, while Pat Moss captured the Ladies Award in the 1962 Monte Carlo Rally. An even more powerful Mini Cooper S model (initially equipped with a 1,071-cc engine making 70 horsepower and 62 pound-feet of torque) hit the market in 1963, and a Cooper S would go on to deliver the Mini’s best-known racing victory in 1964, when Paddy Hopkirk drove the car to a win at the Monte Carlo Rally. Timo Mäkinen would follow up with a win at the 1965 Monte Carlo Rally, and Rauno Aaltonen would do the same in 1967, helping to further the Cooper S model’s reputation as a “giant killer” in motorsports.

Evolving over the years, the original Mini remained in production until 2000, an impressive span of over four decades. Countless variants were produced, including panel vans (the Mini Van or Mini 98), station wagons (Mini Traveller, Mini Countryman), pickups, upscale saloons (the Wolseley Hornet and Riley Elf) and even a utility vehicle (the Mini Moke), which still enjoys its own dedicated global following. The Mini has accumulated a string of awards, too, including Autocar magazine’s “Car of the Century” and Classic & Sports Car magazine’s “European Car of the Century,” and with over 5.3 million Minis produced, it remains the best-selling British car of all time.

2000 Mini Mark VII, the final year of production.

Though the Mini was not the first car produced with a transverse-mounted engine and front-wheel drive, it did set the stage for generations of passenger cars to follow. Its less-is-more philosophy was also embraced by rival automakers, who viewed the Mini’s success as proof that consumers could willingly embrace cars that were both small in stature and missing any trappings of luxury. Though the latest generation of fuel-efficient subcompacts may look nothing like the Mini, and may come with far more amenities than Alec Issigonis ever dreamed of, there’s still a bit of Mini DNA beneath the hood of every one.

Two decades ago, the last Moke rolled off an assembly line in Portugal, built in a former Austin Rover plant by Italian motorcycle manufacturer Cagiva. Now, thanks to undying interest in the diminutive utility vehicle, and backing by Chinese automaker Chery, production of an old-but-new Classic Moke has resumed, built under a cooperative agreement with Jaguar Land Rover at a facility in China.

If one factors in only the original concept behind a vehicle’s design, the Mini Moke was an abject failure. Designed by Sir Alec Issigonis, the Moke was initially intended to be used as a light transport vehicle by the British military. While the mini-Jeep could have easily been air dropped in remote locations, or extracted by four soldiers when bogged down in difficult terrain, the Moke’s 10-inch wheels and lack of ground clearance made it wholly unsuitable for military use. In fact, the only branch of service to show interest in the original Moke was the Royal Navy, which envisioned the Moke as ideal for use aboard aircraft carriers.

Undeterred, Issigonis reportedly designed later versions of the Moke with all-wheel drive and twin engines. While these undoubtedly provided better traction on smooth, slippery surfaces, their additional complexity and continuing lack of clearance for harsh terrain soon saw this variant rejected as well. In 1964, the Moke was offered through both Morris and Austin dealers, targeted to farmers and those needing an ultra-compact, light-duty utility vehicle.

Production began at British Motors’ Longbridge plant in January of 1964, and by the end of the Moke’s run in Birmingham in 1968, nearly 15,000 units had been constructed. The Moke had found favor among farmers and beach-goers in Australia, and a British Motors facility in Sydney (which began manufacturing the Moke in 1966) took over worldwide production. This lasted until 1982, when production of the Australian-built Moke ended. Its death was short-lived, as British Leyland began producing the Moke at a factory in Portugal in 1983.

This arrangement lasted another six years, with ongoing design changes demanded by the market, until Italian motorcycle manufacturer Cagiva purchased the rights to build the Moke in 1990. From 1991 until the end of production in 1993, Cagiva built the Moke in Portugal, dropping the Mini name from the vehicle’s title. Thanks to oversupply and shrinking demand, the Moke’s impressive 29-year production run appeared to be over.

The micro-jeep may have been absent from the market, but it was still fresh in the minds of Mini and Mini Moke faithful. Designer Michael Young falls into this category, and when contacted by Moke International about redesigning the classic Moke for the 21st century, Young said he considered the task a “call of duty.” Starting with a clean sheet of paper, Young penned a design that looks like the original, while improving its handling, braking, comfort and safety. In 2012, Chery subsidiary Sicar Engineering joined the project, and a joint venture arrangement was struck with Jaguar Land Rover to begin building the new Classic Moke in China.

Power for the Classic Moke comes from a 1.0-liter four-cylinder engine, rated at 50 horsepower and 68 pound-feet of torque, and drive goes to the front wheels via a standard five-speed manual or optional automatic transmission. The list of safety features includes front and rear roll bars, three-point seat belts for front seat passengers (and unspecified seat belts for rear seat passengers) and a front passenger airbag (though, oddly enough, no driver side air bag). Consumers can choose from left- or right-hand drive configurations as well as a palette of six exterior colors and four interior colors.

If that’s the good news, here’s the bad: The initial production run of 1,000 units will go to the Australian market, at prices that have yet to be published. Eventually, the Moke will make it to the Caribbean, but don’t expect distribution to extend to the United States. Though the Classic Moke is undoubtedly safer than the original Mini Moke, meeting the current USDOT regulations for passenger vehicles would add layers of complexity (and hence, layers of cost) to the Classic Moke’s design.

Longer-term, there are plans for a battery-powered electric Moke as well (called, of course, the eMoke). For more information on the Classic Moke, visit MokeInternational.com.

Janis Joplin dented the hood of this 1966 Mini Moke for sale on Hemmings.com! Or maybe not. Either way, it’s got a dent in the hood. From the seller’s description:

Excellent, rust-free, original paint, all original seats and trim, excellent original wiring, 55,000 original miles, only extremely minor flaw is a barely noticeable dent on the hood which was caused by Janis Joplin standing on this car at Woodstock.

Which, to me, is like a B and B where (reputedly) George Washington once slept. Maybe he (and she) did, maybe not. Either way, a good B and B(?) and a lovely Moke.

A Moke? Well, seems BMC designed and built these cars on spec to sell to the British Military (for Airborne use); they were never accepted and sold in the civilian market. Essentially the subframes, suspension, drivetrain, and brakes from a Mini, but in its own unique mini-Jeep configuration. Ideal for summer and beach use, wonderful to bring to races, fun AND seats four.

Brakes just done, new shocks, powdercoated wheels, fuel tank cleaned, canopy top is in excellent condition, tires are new, everything works, hard to imagine a more perfect ORIGINAL example.

You may recall The Prisoner, which aired on CBS in the late 1960s: actor/director/producer/creator/theme-music-writer Patrick McGoohan’s highly allegorical tale concerning the retirement/imprisonment of a spy who knew too much. Though set in a place where motorized transportation was hardly the norm – the village of his capture did have boundaries, after all – two iconic automobiles littered the joint. First was KAR 120C, the BRG/yellow Lotus Seven shown in the opening credits. But Mini Mokes, the little open-bodied trucklet-tourers using Mini mechanicals, were also used as taxis in the series (“local service only”) and were painted white with red and white striped canvas tops, as well as the Village’s ubiquitous Pennyfarthing bicycle image on the hood. Four Mokes are said to have been converted by Wood & Pickett during the summer of 1966, for filming duty. Perhaps you had one as a Dinky toy around that time.

Well, top Prisoner fan website The Unmutual has received news that one of the original Prisoner Mokes, believed to have been owned by someone involved in the production, has been discovered, disheveled but mostly complete and intact, in a barn in Holland. A production error showed a U.K.-registration HLT 709C license plate (rather than a generic “taxi” plate in the series’ trademark Albertus font) in the “Living in Harmony” episode which matches the one on the Moke found in storage. It was largely complete, missing only rear seats, spare tire and cover, front seat covers and interior trim.

A restorer has purchased the carcass with an eye toward a complete restoration. The mokeclub.org forums has more on the Prisoner Mokes.

A couple weeks back, we asked what you could envision doing with a Mini Moke shell that’s for sale on Hemmings.com. Hugo90, who often contributes images to the Hemmings Nation Flickr pool in response to the day’s blog posts, answered our question with this shot of a Moke on the Castrol International Rallye in Canberra, Australia, in 1976. Is that Jesus at the wheel?

So it’s not an entire car, but this 1969 Mini Moke shell does raise some interesting possibilities. Would you put a Mini drivetrain back into it, as was originally meant for it, or would you build something a little wilder with it? From the seller’s description:

I have used a Moke shell as a pattern to fabricate a 20% larger version of a Moke body for another frame (Suzuki Sidekick). It is in good condition, it comes with a windshield frame, grille, top irons and hood.

Not all of the remaining ports of call for the Hemmings Mediterranean Cruise had old cars to ogle – and I’ll discuss why in another post – but the ones that did all had their unique flavors of cars. For instance, we stopped in Dubrovnik, Croatia, on the fourth day of the cruise, and found a city and country full of newness: a new highway system, newly built houses and hotels and bridges, new cars plying those new roads and new bridges. The reason for all the newness lies in the nearly complete destruction of the country during the war there a decade and a half ago, reminders of which still exist just about everywhere you look. Yet we saw plenty of these Renault 4s. Never got much of an explanation for their presence there.

Skipping our next stop, Venice, I’ll move on to Sicily, where Heather and I came across this Fiat 127 while climbing the mountain to Castelmola. While not exactly rural, the area of Sicily we visited wasn’t exactly urban either, so the cars here looked a little older, a little more beat-up.

Once we got up to Castelmola, we tripped across this Piaggio Ape on one of the back alleys. Some of the graffiti on it read “Hippy Car,” but we ultimately determined it was connected to a local pizzeria, either as a delivery vehicle or as advertising.

Down the mountain in Taormina, the town had a Fiat 1107 Campagnola parked away.

Our next stop, Barcelona, didn’t afford much car-spotting opportunity, but Monaco proved a car-spotter’s paradise. Ferraris were about as common as Cadillacs in Texas (probably largely thanks to a tourist-centered business that allowed people to drive a Ferrari around the Grand Prix circuit for 150 Euros), and the ultra-rich cars became thicker the closer you got to the casino. It was also in Monaco that we saw the only real vintage exotic of the trip, a Lamborghini Miura, parked downhill from the casino.

We also saw an inordinate number of Mini Mokes. Again, I didn’t get an explanation.

Smarts are, of course, commonplace all over Europe, but this Brabus-tuned Smart sitting outside the Mercedes/Maybach dealership was far from commonplace.

While I’m off-topic and talking about new cars for a moment, I might as well mention that Italian cities have the world’s hottest cop cars – Alfa Romeo 159 four-door sedans.

And, rounding out our ports of call, in Florence, we came across plenty of electric city vehicles like the above Pasquali, a three-wheeled tandem two-seater.

I couldn’t find anything about this particular car on the elektrocar.it website printed on the car’s flanks.

And finally, this Ligier Nova that we walked past apparently suffered from a nearsighted driver. Or else it falls apart at the slightest bump – not an attribute you’d want in your car were you to drive in Italy.